


On An Exhale

by MarbleAide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Forced Feminization, Implied Character Death, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything's perfect until it's not anymore and he simply can't bring himself to ignore it any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On An Exhale

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Mortastic Fic Exchange on tumblr in response to enthusiasticindifference's prompt of Abuse between Severin and Richard.
> 
> It's crazy super late and I'm a horrible human being, but...here it is.

It was a slow burn process that brought them together, because Richard does have a life outside of his brother, he does, and it’s not like he gets involved in those darker affairs very often, he doesn’t, but their paths crossed all the same and over time little smiles became longing looks progressed to compliments with brushed fingers on fingers. It was inevitable, everyone saw it happening, but it still started off slow, just in case.

Because Richard’s been in these situations before, enough to make him cautious. He doesn’t rush in so easily and steps around everything, everyone, like broken glass on the floor. But Severin is everything he wants, needs, and over time he let himself fall, pushed all the doubts away.

It seemed too easy, looking back on it now, because nothing is ever easy in his life. Severin was nice, soft spoken, let Richard curl up next to his side when they watched movies on the couch, didn’t mind when he spoken out loud to memorize his play lines, and always kissed at the tips of his fingers when he noticed Richard had bit down too far at his nails.

It was so perfect, because it was so easy.

\---

“Oh,” Richard pauses for just a moment, fiddles with the hem of his scarf before moving the next three steps forward to take his seat. Fall hasn’t quite hit yet, but the sun is going in and out of the clouds today. It’s a nice day to eat outside, which is exactly what is happening right now, and very, very, silently Richard wishes for just a second they were sitting inside. “I wasn’t expecting—I mean, Jim didn’t tell me he couldn’t make it.” he tries for a smile, but it feels forced, they all feel forced these days.

In front of him, Sebastian gives a shrug as he returns Richard’s smile (doesn’t say anything in comparison, because his is just that degree of forced as well). “It was a last minute cancellation, so he decided to send me instead. Says he’ll make it up to you with breakfast on Sunday.”  Sebastian shifts, leans his body forward to get that much closer to Richard. “So, how have you been, Richie? Got to report back to the boss and all.”

It’s meant to be relaxing, teasing, and this time the smile Sebastian carries is something more like one of his real smiles, crooked to the side with the tension of scar tissue across his lip that  Jim likes to call ‘charming’ in a grotesque sort of way that Jim does. Instead of the desired intentions, Richard’s shoulders tense as he drops his gaze, away from Sebastian’s eyes, pretending to read the menu.

“Fine,” He says plainly, so practiced now that the stutter of the word doesn’t even pass his lips. Subconsciously, he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, sending a sharp little pain racing down his spine. “Everything’s fine.”

\---

It was their first night living together, in the same flat at the same time where neither of them had to leave in the morning and if they did they would come back here. Right here. Together.

Boxes were slowly being unpacked. Severin said they had time, but Richard was persistent. He didn’t want to feel like he was just floating around; he wanted to feel like he belonged. He wanted his clothes mingled among Severin’s. He wanted his soaps to be right next to the other’s, so on some days when he woke up too early and his eyes weren’t completely open just yet he’d accidentally pick up the wrong shampoo only to end up smelling like Severin all day long. He wanted to cook for them both, curl up on the couch, and decide on a movie to watch from their mixed collection of period dramas and action flicks with unbelievable explosions were the good guy always won.

It only took him a few hours, unpacking and rearranging everything while his boyfriend just sat on the couch watching him move back and forth from room to room, smiling all the while and shaking his head.

“Get over here,” Severin finally huffed out, tired of having Richard run about like a hyper child as he pushed all their belongs together. “You’ve been here for nearly eight hours already and I’ve barely gotten to hold you since.”

It was a horrible excuse, cheesy, and the grabby hands combined with a faked pout made Richard roll his eyes, but he still dropped the books he was trying to squeeze in between Severin’s collection of Russian literature—namely Tolstoy—to comply with Severin’s request. Richard crawled up into Severin’s lap, smiling as the bigger man wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. They kissed for the first time in their apartment, all soft pressed and chapped lips with Richard’s arms around Severin’s neck and Severin’s hand reaching down to sqeeze at Richard’s arse through his jeans. He pulled back, laughed, pressed their foreheads together and just breathed.

“Happy?” Severin breathed out, pressing his lips to the corner of Richard’s mouth, nuzzling against his cheek.

“Yeah,” Richard sighed in reply, smiling “Yeah, I really am.”

“Love me?”

And at this, Richard laughed again, shaking his head and leaned back up enough to give Severin a little wrinkle of his nose, teasing, before kissing him once more, this time adding the addition of tongue rolling against another and the nip of teeth against the bottom of his lip.

“I love you.” Richard whispered out, right against Severin’s mouth, “And I’ll keep loving you until I simply can’t anymore.”

Severin grinned, pulled Richard down with a soft little growl and started to attack his throat with his lips and teeth, making Richard giggle in return, arch up, run his fingers through Severin’s hair. And sighed, happy, content for the first time in a long time. It was perfect.

\---

They’ve both ordered already and a silence falls over them both. It’s not horribly unpleasant, but at the same time it’s heavy. Richard can feel that it is, or at least it must be the heat starting to get to him. The thought of requesting they move inside with the air conditioning crosses his mind a time or two, but still Richard says nothing and sips quietly at his iced tea.

Now that he’s hear, Richard isn’t quite sure that he can speak. It would have been easier with Jim there, because Jim understands. He can look at Richard and know exactly what’s wrong and how to fix it without him having to say anything. Everything would have been fixed, better, before they put in the order for dessert (Richard would, Jim never does, but knows how much of a sweet tooth his brother has, never tells him no). Richard hadn’t been planning on Sebastian being the one across from him right now.

It’s harder like this, because Sebastian is Severin’s brother.  He doesn’t know to what degree Sebastian cares or knows, doesn’t know if he can manage speaking all the negativity with the same blue eyes looking back at him, but…but…

“Sebastian,” Richard finally speaks up, but his eyes are still drawn down.  He can feel Sebastian looking at him, staring, as he nervously licks his lips and, with shaking hands, pull the scarf from around his neck. “I need to talk to you about something. About…” His voice trails off after this, weak, unable to say anything more, but really sometimes Richard doesn’t give Sebastian enough credit.

The pause is filled in with Sebastian nodding, though Richard doesn’t look up to see until he hears the other’s voice.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding just a little bit too hollow as he reaches to take a gulp of the beer he’d ordered.

Richard looks to Sebastian’s face, sees the shadows cast across his eyes. Sebastian looks to Richard’s throat, sees the colors marred into his skin.

 “Yeah, I figured it was something like that.”

\---

He doesn’t remember anymore, when he thinks back on it, if Severin really did smell thick with the burn of alcohol, but somewhere along the way Richard’s persuaded himself that’s was it was. Clothing disheveled, hair wet with rain, breathe reeking of too much time spent out with others at a pub—it had to be it.

At this point, he’s pushed back the images of blood on clothes and the smear of red across Severin’s nose, the rest on the back of his hand. He shouldn’t really have forgotten that part, seeing as he washed the unknown blood from his face right after, but he’s become so good at picking pieces of memories to lock away and forget about, why would this one be any different?

But Severin wasn’t drunk like he wants to think. He comes home with heavy steps, boots dirty with wet and filth from the rain that had been coming down for about an hour now. The water trails down from his eyes, taking little paths of red with it, and soaks into clothes.

Richard had been up, waiting until it had gotten too late, used to Severin coming home at odd hours from his brother’s demands. It wasn’t new, being unable to sleep without Severin doing the same beside him, so Richard had gotten into the habit of making a cup of tea, drinking it slow at the kitchen table until his stomach was warm and his love came home.

“Welcome ho—“

The strike hit him hard, tears instantly come to the corners of his eyes and after only an extra second his face felt hot. There was no blood of his own that breaks forth, but in the morning he can see the little blotch of it unable to escape under layers of skin. Richard was in shock, gripping his mug too tight, staring at the kitchen wall while trying to figure out what happened.

Severin was breathing hard. Took in three ragged breathes before turning on his heels, boots heavy on the wooden floor.

“Come to bed.”

And Richard did. For whatever reason, he did. Placed his mug in the sink to shuffle off, climbed into bed and snuggled right up to Severin’s chest. He smelled like dirt and blood, but those are the sort of details Richard refuses to recall properly. All he knows for sure is he closed his eyes, burning cheek pressed right into Severin’s skin, and said,

“I love you.”

Right before going to sleep.

\---

“Do you think it’s my fault?” Richard finds himself saying after a moment. The silence had fallen again, long enough that the waiter brought their food around, though neither of them have touched it just yet.

“No,” Is the immediate answer, sounding so sure about it Richard almost wanted to laugh, but Sebastian sounds so very serious he can’t. “It’s not your fault. Richard, you’ve got to understand Severin he’s…he’s just like that.”

That’s a lie. That’s a horrible, horrible lie.

And that’s exactly what Richard things, for a few seconds, the very words making him angry as he wanted to defend Severin—slam his hands down and tell Sebastian he’s wrong, Richard knows Severin better then that—they’ve been together over a year now and he had to be wrong! He had to because Severin isn’t like that at all!

He doesn’t go off in fits and slaps Richard over and over again until it hurts to turn his head. He doesn’t lock him in a closet just because he can—just because Richard can’t get out. Doesn’t leave rings of bruises. Doesn’t make his joints all hurt in the worst sort of way. Doesn’t make him flinch at the very call of his name. Doesn’t leave scars. Doesn’t…doesn’t…doesn’t…

He doesn’t.

\---

Sometime later, Richard took a trip to the mall and found himself in some department store at the make-up counter, making small talk while explaining to the woman that he’s more of a ‘chamois’ then a ‘buttermilk’ (it’s not that he’s been down this road before, it’s not, never from prior experience). He stopped trying to argue when she mentioned ‘I’ve got a number of a friend who could help you’. He bought both with a tight smile and a thank you falling from his mouth, leaving as soon as he could.

It’s all okay for almost a week until Severin caught him dabbing the conceder around his eye to cover up the heavy bruise there. Nothing else happened until that evening when Severin comes home with a bag, threw it at Richard who was on the couch, demanding he ‘get ready and be in the bedroom in ten minutes’.

Inside the bag was an assortment of more make-up, lipstick, eye shadow, blush. At the bottom was a dress, blue in shade in and sun in style, which only made Richard cringe, shiver, but eventually he got up to obey.

He’s still not sure why, but he does. Did. And emerged in a dress that fit surprisingly well in make-up that he knew how to do fairly well from theater. Looking in the mirror, Richard couldn’t meet his own gaze as humiliation burned against his cheeks.

Severin fucked him like that.

As a woman, Richard was forced to sit up on Severin’s lap and sink down on his cock even as he choked out, shook his head, didn’t want to. Severin didn’t listen at all, just hit Richard that much harder when his legs refused to keep moving, throwing him off to take him from behind—push inside him with enough force that Richard had to brace himself against the headboard, skirt of the dress bunched up over his hips and the only protection against the bruising grip of Severin’s hands. He heard the word ‘slut’ and ‘cunt’ before he stopped listening, just closed his eyes and tried his hardest to shut it all out.

By the time it’s all finished, Richard’s curled up in a ball holding his hands over his mouth to quiet down his sobs. Severin was already asleep beside him, a hand laid over his waist in a manner that made sick rise up in his throat. He was still in the dress, soiled by the mixture of cum and lube now drying against his thighs. The make-up was smeared, lips red without the lipstick, mascara across his eyes with his vision blurred by tears.

“I love you,” he whispered out very silently into the night.

That was how he slept.  

\---

Sebastian’s the first to laugh; it’s a sort of broken sound followed by a hand running through his hair. He takes another drink from his beer, longer this time, and doesn’t put it down. The shadows remain over his eyes, growing darker.

“See, there’s this difference.” Sebastian begins, licks his lips and for once he looks at nervous as Richard, shaken down to his very core. “When I came back, I was broken. After seeing all that shit, killing all those people, lot of folk just…snap. Get back home and decide to just drink yourself to death.” He shrugged, “That is, until a psycho little prick drags you from the gutter and puts a gun in your hands again.” Sebastian manages a smile, shakes his head and gives off that nervous little laugh again.

“But Sev? Fuck, Sev…it’s like that saying, ‘When a good man goes to war’, but he—Sev’s never been good. He didn’t get kicked out. He was sent home, was told he served his country well and everyone was so fucking proud. But Jesus, Richie, they didn’t see him.” Sebastian looks distressed. He looks fragile, ready to shatter, like he’s reliving all those horrible memories again. And he is. “He enjoyed it. Just fucking…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he finishes his beer. Richard’s just sitting in the chair across from him, not knowing what to say or do. He’s never heard any of this before, is not prepared to hear this side of Severin even if it is the side he’s been living with for the past few months. 

Sebastian calls the waiter over, orders another drink for himself before he continues with Richard frozen to the spot he’s in.

“Jim didn’t find Sev like he did me. Sev found Jim, asked for the job. Shit, you know what he does, yeah? You have to, you’re not that ignorant. You know what we do.”

He does. He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what his brother does, what Sebastian does, what Severin does. He’s cleaned enough blood stains from clothes, found enough of the various weapons Severin uses, as kissed his knuckles when their bruised and even though he knows full well Severin’s a killer, he still loved how warm he was when they held each other.

“I just…I thought he’d be different with you.” It’s the first time Richard can say Sebastian’s sounded genuinely guilty. Sad. Crumbling so visually around the edges as he puts his face in his hands and just breathes.

“Jim hits you,” Richard pipes in, his mind still trying to make this right, make it so it’s not at all what he knows is happening. “You hit him. What’s—what’s the difference?”

Sebastian looks up, looking years older than he is.

“You’ve told him to stop, haven’t you?”

“I—“

“That’s the difference, Richie.”

\---

He came home once to find Severin sitting on their couch, blowing puffs of smoke in the air from a cigarette he held between his fingers. Not once had Richard ever seen Severin smoke, can’t recall a time when he did, and just like that his entire body is tense and defensive.  

“Bunny,” he called out, using the nickname he’d given to him on their second date. By now, it only ever meant something bad was going to happen. “Come here, love.”

Of course, he listened. Like he always does, like he’s been taught, and with slow movement Richard put down his bag and made his way over to the couch alongside his boyfriend, sitting beside him in a way that was close, but not touching. Severin didn’t like it, pulled Richard closer until he was flush against his side. For a long while that’s all that happened, Richard sat there shaking and Severin smoked down to the filter.

“Give me your hand,” Was the first thing Severin said after calling Richard over.

He shouldn’t. Knew he shouldn’t, but still Richard does. With so much hesitation and nerves. Severin’s hand is rough against his own, thumb rubbing against his knuckles before he moves, fast, sudden, and Richard cries out a second later, trying to pull his hand away.

“Ah, ah, ah, Bunny,” Severin pouted, shaking his head as he pulls the cigarette away from the back of Richard’s hand (still lit), looking at the burn he left behind. “I’m not done yet.”

His grip on Richard is strong, firm, and even when Richard tried and tried to pull away, he can’t. Another three burns come, working their way up his arm—one on his wrist, on the crook of his elbow, his bicep—and by the time Severin’s finished he’s on top of Richard, pressing on his weight down around his waist straddling him. Richard was sobbing, screaming, clutching his arm to him as he struggles under the bigger man’s body.

He watched, blurry eyed, as Severin pulled out another cigarette from his back pocket along with a silver lighter. Stuck the thing in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled deep before pulling the cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke into Richard’s face. His eyes snug, watered even more as he tried to move away. Didn’t see it coming, felt the pull of fingers at the neck of his shirt, downward, and then the burning pain right above his collar bone making him scream and kick out.

And Severin just laughed _. Laughed_. It’s then, right then, that he can remember it, the exact moment, because after that Severin got off him, gave his cheek a pat, and left. Just…left.

Richard didn’t say a word.

His heart crumbled.

\---

“I-I can’t.” He spits out, realizes he’s crying before he can stop it. Doesn’t want to, wouldn’t even if he could. “I can’t do this anymore, Sebastian. He’s—he’s going t-to—”

“He won’t.”

Richard looks terrified, shocked, looks up and is so scared because—because Sebastian wouldn’t actually send him _back there_ , would he?

“I’d never let him, Jim—“ Sebastian just shakes his head, and just like that all his emotions are blocked off. He doesn’t look sad anymore or broken, but sort of empty. It’s almost worse than the former ones. “Don’t worry. Richie, don’t worry. You’re coming home with me, okay?”

He can’t manage words, so instead he just nods and it’s the safest he’s felt in so long.

\---

\--

-

The area he’s in is familiar enough, but normally he’s used to being in the opposite position. Not the one tied up to the chair with the single spot light over head. His nose his broken, making it hard for him to breathe with the blood clogging up his airway. One eye is closing shut and the other is blurry, looking around into the darkness of the empty room, spitting blood out onto the floor.

“Always knew you’d fuck it up sooner or later, Moran.” The voice came out of the dark, sing-song and Severin’s head jerks towards the sound of it, but sees nothing. Hears the smooth clicking of expensive shoes on cement. “But this? Oh, dear, you really weren’t thinking were you? And here you held such promise…”

His heart is beating a little too fast. He can hear it in his ears. Very, very, quietly he pulls on the knots tight against his wrists, feels their strength and feels the thick rope cutting into his skin. He swallows the lump in his throat, but it reforms quickly. There’s sweat on his brow.

The clicking gets louder, closer, until the form of Jim comes out from the shadows, blending in like the demon he is and stands at the edge of the dimly light circle, pouting.

“You really did disappoint me, Severin.” Jim sighs heavily, stepping closer and grabs Severin by his chin, squeezing his jaw and Severin stares up at him, grits his teeth, refusing to let him see his fear.

Jim leans down, whispering out so very soft in his ear, “Shouldn’t have touched him like that.” Before pulling away, letting go, and disappearing into the shadows once more.

His voice calls out again,

“Richie, darling, anything else?”

And Severin’s eyes widen, look around for a second before he spots Richard emerging right where Jim had been, looking just like him except for the slump in his shoulders, the loose fitted jeans. He looks sad, big doe brown eyes wet, but he’s staring directly at Severin, not looking away.

“Richard—Bunny, babe, ple—“

Richard interrupts, “Until I couldn’t anymore.”

Everything disappears in the darkness .

Richard breathes in.

Severin screams out.

And it’s over.


End file.
